Flying the Coop
by HeartBee
Summary: [PRose] GUN had taken over their home and done everything in their power to keep them under their control. But three siblings still had the will to escape... But sometimes, will alone isn't enough. Can Jet, Storm, and Wave make it out alive?


Jet leaned against the side of the wall, choking and gasping for breath. He weakly clutched at his throat with one hand, using to other to try and keep himself from keeling over on the spot. Next to him, Wave and Storm slowed and stopped, doing much the same. Wave sat heavily next to him on the wall, wrapping her arms around herself, her bare forehead soaked in sweat. Storm groaned and flopped backwards onto the ground, his chest heaving and his limbs thrown askew. They sat like that for what must have been hours.

"Did they follow us?" Wave finally wheezed out. Jet shook his head weakly. Storm groaned.

"Storm," Jet said, pausing again to breathe before continuing. "You're bleeding."

Storm groaned again, lifting one arm into his view and looking at it. The bandages went up to his shoulder, mirrored on his other arm and on the others' arms, and all of them were stained red with old blood.

"Your leg," Jet said, and choked, doubling over and finally sinking to his knees, coughing harshly into his bandaged arms. Wave set a hand on his back until his coughing subsided.

Storm grunted and sat up, looking at his legs, which were similarly bandaged up to the knee, and similarly shared by his companions. Their fierce running must have reopened old wounds, because the bandages were becoming stained with new blood. Storm glanced over at his smaller teammates. "You too."

Jet sat back on his heels, and laughed. "Yeah, I guess so-" He was interrupted by another series of coughs.

"We have to get away," Wave said, and her words were so familiar and oft repeated that they went entirely unquestioned. The three stood in unison and pelted away, leaving the large buildings behind them, dark and silent and ominous but for the cutting spotlights drowning out the sky. They didn't stop until they reached the shore, breathing heavily and looking around. Jet pointed.

"Look."

An airstrip was situated along the beach, the track lit dimly and the lights in a small building on. Sitting by the building was a small plane, used for carrying the smaller airboards made by their race. Jet was shaking with a mix of exhaustion and excitement. Wave stood next to him. "What if it's a trap?"

"If they come after us while we make a grab for it, we won't be able to run away," Jet agreed, resisting the urge to cough. "But we won't have another chance like this. Not ever."

"Be prepared to put your life on the line," Storm said, and lay two heavy hands on the smaller birds' shoulders. They glanced up at him, blinking, and he looked down to meet their gaze. "I'm the strongest. If they come after us, I'll carry you and run for as long as I can manage. And if they catch up to me, I'll just throw you the rest of the way."

"One final flight," Jet said with a weak grin.

"Once we grab the plane, we'll swoop by and grab you," Wave said, a determined glint in her eye. The group sat in silence for a while before giving determined nods.

"Right," Jet said raspily, turning to look at the airstrip. "Now."

They took off, Storm keeping behind the smaller two as they ran towards the airstrip. As soon as their feet hit the lit track, alarms started blaring loudly. Storm charged forward, picking up the other two and carrying them in his hands as he pelted forward as quickly as he could. The door on the small building flew open, framing a human in military armor as he shouted at them. Half-way down the track; there weren't any other officers around yet. The human took aim.

"Curl up!" Storm yelled, and the moment they had he tossed them with as much force as he could at the plane. The human fired, and Storm collapsed, bleeding from his side. Jet and Wave had a few split seconds to take in the weightless feeling as they flew through the air before they landed, rolling for a few feet before they stood. They were at the plane. Jet wasted no time throwing open the door, pushing Wave in before climbing after her. There was more shouting, and he heard feet stomping along. He turned to look at Wave.

"Hurry!"

Wave nodded, already having pulled out the wiring, and bit down hard on a handful of wires, which severed. She recoiled with a shout, her beak smoking slightly, but wasted no time re-arranging the wires, and soon the plane sputtered to life, shooting up and forward. Storm was standing, bleeding heavily now and bowling down soldiers the moment they got too close. He was obviously tiring, though.

Jet turned to look at Wave. "Lower! We have to grab Storm!"

The plane fell through the air, straight at the cluster. Jet leaned out of the plane dangerously, holding out a hand. The albatross looked up, standing in place while the soldiers scattered. He grabbed Jet's hand and the bottom of the open doorway just before the plane shot up again. Storm grunted, slipping dangerously as all of his weight was suddenly placed on his arms. Jet held Storm's hand with both of his own, willing himself to not lose hold. After a few tense moments, Storm grunted, hauling himself half into the plane, his legs still dangling out. Jet made to assist him, pulling uselessly as Storm lifted himself into the plane, turning and closing the door. He sat down shakily, putting a hand on his side where he had been shot. Wave had stuck the wires back together using her bloody bandages, leaving one leg exposed, the tough skin scraped off and scabbing unusually, getting blood on the seats. Jet finally allowed himself to cough, collapsing into a chair and doubling over, curling into a ball to hack his lungs out in peace, pressing a bandaged hand to his beak. When the fit was over, his hand pulled back red. He stood and started looking around.

He found three airboards, food for several days if they restrained themselves, a tiny (for humans) plane bathroom, several towels and a first aid kit. Upon finding the last one he cheered out loud, running back over to the others (despite the fact that there was no need) holding it above his head. "Look what I found!" Storm turned to look at the hawk weakly. Wave merely glanced at his reflection in the window.

"What is it?"

"A human medic pack," Jet said shortly, before turning to look at Storm expectantly. "What do you think?"

Storm grunted, sitting up slightly, still holding a hand to his side. "I don't think I'll be able to use it right now..."

"Tell me how, then," Jet said, opening the kit. He scanned through the items, laying them out carefully and listing them out loud for Storm's benefit. The albatross closed his eyes in thought.

"A-alright," he said finally, opening his eyes and moving his hand off of the bullet wound. Jet grimaced at the sight of it. Storm continued, ignoring the younger hawk's discomfort. "First we have to get this bullet out, I think..."

Jet, prior to the GUN occupation of the Babylon Islands, would feel sick at the sight of a papercut, and might have fainted at seeing large amounts of blood. He had, once. But after four years of being trapped in the aviatories, he had been desensitized to it enough that he only felt queasy while following Storm's instructions, clumsily pulling out the bullet by hand and tightly tying a towel around the wound using as little gauze as possible. Once the wound was tied, Storm held up a hand; Jet set down the tools from the medic pack and waited.

Storm caught his breath before speaking again. "I'll do the rest.". He shooed Jet off to switch places with Wave, who went over to stand by the albatross as he started cautiously re-bandaging her wounds. Once he was done, she switched again with Jet, looking at her arms and legs with fascination. Jet understood why, watching as Storm re-bandaged the hawk's own injuries. The white, untarnished bandages were surreal. Soon, Jet's old bandages were tossed into a growing pile at the back of the plane and Storm was working on his own. Jet took the opportunity to go to a window, looking out at the Babylon Islands.

"The islands are sinking."

And it was true. The black, moonless sky was fading, and an iridescent bubble seemed to form around the islands; as the sky was lit up with brilliant hues, the islands sunk into the sea as if recoiling from the light; soon, they were completely submerged. Jet stared at the sky and the water. He had never seen them from above the islands like this, during the day. It was amazing, like a new beginning.

"We should have a name."

Wave and Storm looked over at Jet in confusion. The hawk was still staring out of the window, not wanting to look away from the beautiful scene. "Once we're back at full strength, obviously, we should start doing...something. There are some airboards in here; we could take them, and we could... I don't know. Steal from GUN, shake things up, do something. Make a name for ourselves." He finally turned back to the inside of the plane, looking at Wave and Storm, who were both looking at him with what he thought might be respect. "The Babylon Rogues."

The two looked at each other and grinned, nodding at Jet. "The Babylon Rogues."


End file.
